


Zen and the Art of Campaign Management

by Missy



Category: The Adventures of Brisco County Jr.
Genre: Canon Relationships, Established Relationship, F/M, Fake Marriage, Humor, Politics, Romance, Undercover as Engaged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 22:32:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2126946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dixie asks Brisco to meet her in a tiny border town he thinks it'll just be one more liason; but it seems she's found the only place in the world that's afraid of the Swill Brothers, a place where she has been pressed into service as a mayoral candidate.  Circumstances force them to announce an engagement, but will it turn real before they can foil the Swills' dastardly scheme to take over Los Alamos permanently?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zen and the Art of Campaign Management

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DesertScribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertScribe/gifts).



> Written for Rarepairs in '14!

Brisco wasn’t surprised when he returned from a very long hunt in British Columbia dusty, hot, and exhausted to find Socrates waiting for him at his room above the Horseshoe Club with a bundle of telegrams and letters in his hand. It had become something of a routine; Brisco would cash out the bounty and split it with Bowler, then he’d come home to rest and there Soc would be with the news, weather of his next mission or a new problem afoot in town.

Brisco took the bundle and eyed it with suspicion. “All bills?” he asked lightly, shuffling through the pile.

“I don’t pry, Brisco – you know that would be unprofessional,” said Socrates – but his grin got even bigger. Brisco barely raised an eyebrow as he scanned the documents. 

There were a few bills, of course, most of which the government automatically paid for. There were also letters from people he’d helped out, all of which he secretly stashed away – it was wrong to get sentimental in this business, but he couldn’t help. “C’mon, Soc, what’s up?”

“Oh, nothing at all!” Socrates tucked his hands before him and stood silently by the doorframe as Brisco reached the last ten messages. As he scanned them, Soc’s grin grew bigger and bigger and Brisco rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Dix bought a place in Los Almos and she wants me to come see it. Guess I’ll be riding out in a few hours!” He raised an eyebrow at Socrates’ huge grin. “Soc, if I were a betting man, I’d wager that you already read that telegram.”

“Oh now, Brisco! You know I’m not the sneaky sort.” He grinned. “I’ve already had some roses cut for you to bring her.”

“I thought you don’t pry.”

“Telegrams are unsealed property, it’s not prying of you accidentally read one while tucking it away for safekeeping.”

“Accidentally?!” Brisco cried.

“Tell her we all say hello,” offered Socrates.

Brisco groaned and headed inside to bathe.

*** 

The ride to Los Alamos was longer than Brisco could ever recall it feeling, and the miles felt like irons pressed to his aching tailbone by the time he pulled up to the city’s limits.

“Los Alamos. Huh. Pretty name for such a quiet town,” Brisco observed to Comet, who tapped his left front hoof on the ground and whinnied. “Oh, now calm down – I’m sure we’ll find Dixie without any trouble.” A snuffling noise. “Look for the biggest commotion? Why doncha try being nice to her, Comet? I’m kinda trying to figure something out here…” The horse side-stepped an apple as it whizzed by Brisco’s ear. “Hey!” Another overripe fruit splattered against the dry earth an inch from Comet’s right front hoof. He looked around for the culprit and noticed a group of children sitting in the branches of a nearby tree, giggling and swinging their feet as free as you please.

“Hey now, cut it out!” he called. “That’s no way to treat a stranger!”

“My pa says it’s a perfectly good way to treat a stranger,” said one of the children, a girl of about six with freckles, a blue gingham dress and two long, straight plaits of red hair. “Ever since those Swill Boys….”

“Shh Mary-Lynne!” cried a boy sitting beside her. “Don’t go saying their names out loud!”

She stuck out her tongue while Brisco glowered up from the ground, quickly dismounting.

When he lurched toward the tree, the kids jumped squeaking from the limbs like little mice, racing back toward the town proper. That was good enough for Brisco; though he often felt fondly toward young ones he was liable to take these little brats over his knee if he was forced to spend more time with them. He tugged on his jacket and glared up the dusty road. “The way some people raise their kids.”

Comet bowed his head and sniffed with disdain at the rotten apple lying fallow by the path. “Aww, hey, look at us. You grew up just fine.” He settled back into his saddle, pulling the note Dixie had sent him from the front pocket of his jacket. “Let’s get,” Brisco suggested, then tugged Comet’s lead when he refused to move.

In a moment he was walking along with the town’s traffic, trying to find the address Dixie had sent. His sense of direction did him no favors this time, and the city’s buildings had no numbers; soon he felt lost.

“Excuse me, Ma’am,” he said, pulling over the first and least busy-looking gentlewoman he could find. Tipping his hat, he asked, “Would you happen to know where Twelve Woodcrest Lane is?” 

She peered up at him. “Are you looking for Miss Dixie?” she wondered.

Brisco nodded. “I’ve got a date with her set for this very afternoon. I don’t suppose you could point me in her direction, could you?”

The older woman frowned thoughtfully. “I hope I won’t regret this, but she’s in the town hall. It’s five blocks north, the biggest building at the end of the block,” she said.

He tipped his hat again in thanks and directed Comet toward the tallest building, standing white-washed in the hot afternoon sun. To his surprise, the front door was barred, and he immediately met with two men in army breeches who demanded to see his qualifications. That was enough to make him worry about Dixie. Said offered qualifications were a quick right fist and a speedy right foot. Brisco then slid into the building through back way, whispering for Comet to stay quiet.

He heard her voice first, smoky but imperious, addressing what sounded like a large group of people; he pushed through a set of curtains and found himself standing in a meeting room; there were roughly fifty people standing and listening to the speech. Taking off his hat, Brisco gently corralled Comet toward the back of the room and watched Dixie as she addressed them.

“….And I believe we can keep this town safe and prosperous! That’s why you should vote for me next Monday for your new mayor!”

“Mayor!” Brisco whispered to Comet, who whickered as the audience broke into thunderous applause. He knew he’d been in Washington for awhile, but long enough for Dixie to take up politics? Something was fishy here, but he waited for her to descend from the stage and start shaking hand before he approached to ask.

She saw him and grinned, pushing gently through the throng of people to meet him. But before they could meet, another voice cut through their reverie. “Miss Cousins!” shouted a man in a porkpie hat with a large notepad in his hand. “Charles Foster Kane, Picayune Times-News. Do you believe your sex will have a negative impact on the election?”

The response was pure Dixie. She tucked her hands against her hips and spun in his direction. “Honey,” she drawled, “my sex has never and will never be a problem. Good day.” She approached Brisco then, and gave Comet a gentle pat to the snout. “You got my letter?”

“Of course,” Brisco said. He helped her slip through the crowd and out the front door, leading Comet back onto the city’s dirt road. “But you didn’t tell me about this…Miss Mayor?” he tried out.

She grinned. “Not yet. You know a lady doesn’t reveal her secrets,” she said. “Every relationship can use a little mystery.” 

“Mysterious would be you changing your hairstyle, not going into politics.”

“Are you disappointed?”

“No, surprised. I thought you were more of a revolutionary.”

Dixie shrugged. “The people called my name, and I realized I couldn’t resist them. It all started last month. I was passing through town on one of those double-bills I booked with the Orpheum circuit. I was the headliner, and under me was that dog act, the Dancing Pupinis. Anyway, I was just minding my own business during one of the shows, just planning on taking a left back to San Francisco, when the Swill Brothers tried to rob the theater. Well, they took one look at me and turned whiter than a batch of sheets fresh from the laundry. They probably remember the last time they tangled with you and didn’t wanna risk it with me.”

“Yeah, and it ended with the three of them doing five years in the county lockup,” said Brisco. “I see they went right back to their old ways.”

“Long story short, the people in this town think I’m a good-luck charm, and the only thing the Swills are afraid of. So they offered me a plot of land and now they’re trying to make me mayor. Which has not been easy. Honestly, Brisco, the press corps in this town could scare a lion into being nice.”

Brisco grinned. “Well, you are a survivor, Dix. And you’ve set guys worse than them in their place.”

She gave him a crooked smile. “I’m tougher than an antelope’s hide when I need to be, but that’s not my point. My point’s that this is one hell of a situation to wind up in.”

“Well, I see why you wanted me,” he said expansively. They’d reached a sunny, well-kept inn nearest the town’s large, clapboard school, and there Brisco escorted Dixie inside. The kindly man behind the desk offered Brisco a room, and he hitched Comet in the spacious stable before changing clothes as she waited downstairs.

He considered her dilemma in private. Dixie would indeed make an excellent mayor – the problem would be protecting her from the Swills – even though they were as inept to the job of causing tyranny as a pair of bloomers were to protecting one’s bare ass in a snowstorm. Brisco figured he had an easy job ahead of him as he shaved up. Hearing a knock at the door, he was presented with a suspiciously slim, tastefully attired bellhop with a tray and a bucket filled with ice and champagne.

He knew who it was when she spoke, pulling the silver lid back. “Strawberries and champagne for you, Mister County.” He grinned. Her Midwestern accent was as poorly pasted on as her crepe mustache. Brisco reached for her cap and tugged it off, letting Dixie’s blonde hair spilling out over her shoulders.

“I think I like this better than the wig.” He tossed it to the floor.

Dixie smirked. “Sometimes a lady has to go to extremes to keep her reputation snow white – even if it’s known that you’ve drifted. We aren’t in San Francisco anymore, Brisco.”

“And I think I might like this better.” He looped his arms around her waist. “How do you feel about breakfast in bed?”

She sighed, “You know I wouldn’t kick you out for eating crackers.”

“Good,” he retorted. Then he gently peeled back her mustache and swept her into a kiss.

*** 

Hours later, Brisco found himself trying to grope through the darkness for the bedside lamp. He smiled as Dixie clung harder to his prone body, but worked along the wooden structure and found a flint and the lamp. The room was bathed in orange light, and he moved to light up the wall sconces as well.

He abruptly realized they weren’t alone when he recognized the voices whispering by the windowsill. Crawling toward his discarded pants, he found his pistol just as a set of fat fingers wormed their way under the rim of the sill.

He met three faces, all of them awkwardly grappling for a spot on the awning under Dix’s window. “Goddang it, Phil,” hissed Will Swill, “you had to run your big ol’ mouth, didn’t you?”

“I had to talk, you big dummy!” He slapped Phill across the face with his hat. “Uh, beggin’ your pardon, Brisco…we were hoping we could talk to Miss Dixie.”

Brisco said, “I’m giving you boys five minutes before I haul you in here and then mach you down to the Sheriff.”

“We’re trying to come in peace,” Phil declared.

“We was hoping to negotiate,” added Will.

“What do you expect her to do?” Brisco asked. “Go off and let you both run roughshod over this town?”

“You don’t understand, County. This is the only place we’ve ever run roughshod over.”

“Y’all are ruining the only good thing we’ve ever had!” said Phill. 

“I wish I could say I sympathize, boys – but all I really want is for you to take off so I can finish sleeping. Besides, we all know how afraid you are of me, now.”

“We thought she was gonna blow the whistle on us!” protested Will. “You know that ain’t right!”

Brisco just started to close the window. “You’re gonna regret this County!” shouted Phil. Brisco rolled his eyes. Unsurprisingly there was no further disruption as he curled back up with Dixie on the bed.

“Did you get rid of ‘em?” she mumbled.

“mmm,” Brisco mumbled. 

“I just love it when you rescue me. Even from boring speeches.”

Brisco just smiled into her hair.

She patted his arm. “I really did want to see you,” she said. “I wasn’t just looking to brag.”

“I know.”

“Good,” she replied, yawning. “I’ll show you around town tomorrow.”

At this point, Brisco hoped the Swills had gotten the hint and disappeared. He squeezed her by way of answer. 

**** 

He woke up to the mumbling of a crowd and – realizing he wasn’t having some terrible nightmare – yanked the sheets up to his chin in pure defense. But the sound was coming from out in the hallway, which gave him time to slap his clothing on before peering outside.

His instincts hadn’t let him down - there was a phalanx of murmuring, disapproving townspeople milling outside of their room, and Dixie was trying to hold court with them dressed carefully in an elegant gown.

Brisco tugged her elbow. “Dix! What’s going on?”

Her fingers found and squeezed his with a new desperation. “No pictures, boys,” she growled. “Now I don’t know which one of you decided to let half the town up to my room, but I want an explanation. Now.”

The same rotund reporter from her speech moved forward. “Charles Foster Kane, Picayune Times-News. A good man doesn’t reveal his sources, but the pious Widow Johnson came to my offices all aflurry this afternoon. We were informed by the town watch that our brightest political prospect, Miss Dixie Cousins, was found to be having a flagrant affair with one Brisco County Junior, a fact that is clearly true. Do you have a comment before we run you both out of town, Miss Cousins?”

“You fellas don’t read dime novels, do you?” Dixie asked, clearly outraged, her fists at her hips. “What Brisco and I do isn’t your darn business, and it won’t affect how I’d run the town. Any more questions?”

“What about your moral fiber?” asked Foster.

“Sinner!” Someone shouted.

“Harlot!” came another voice.

“Immoral!” shouted a hunched-over figure draped in floral material. “You’ll drag us all to hell!”

“Easy, Widow Johnson!” said Foster. “Don’t upset yourself.”

Brisco groaned and rubbed his brow. The widow was obviously Phil Swill, poorly disguised in a bonnet and a flower-print dress. “Dix,” he hissed into her ear, pointing at Phil.

She knew. He felt her tense. “Don’t worry yourself about my morals, Missus Johnson. It just so happens Mister County and I are engaged.”

A roar went up from the crowd. “Engaged?” Brisco squeaked, but recovered, “yes! Yes, engaged! We just haven’t had time to get the ring.” He fake-laughed and lightly elbowed Dixie’s side, only to receive a firmer nudge in return. 

That sent up another murmur from the townspeople. With a glower, Foster gave them a nod. “All right, Miss Cousins. We’ll give ya til next sundown to fix this little problem. We have an election next week; don’t want your moral turpitude to stain your campaign, do we?”

“No sir,” Dixie bit out. “Now git – Brisco and I have to get breakfast. Even people in love have to eat!”

There was a mild wave of disappointment in the crowd’s complaints, but they collectively left the two of them alone. Once they were alone, Dixie whirled toward Brisco, who was about ready to pop with righteous indignation.

“Don’t say it,” she told him.

“Of all of the things to come up with, you picked an engagement?!”

“You said it,” she frowned. “I know you and I haven’t been seeing each other much lately….”

Brisco’s features showed a new guilt. “I want to, Dix. But it seems like every time I pop into a town you just left it.”

“A night here, a train car there, a hay loft there,” Dixie echoed her old words. “That’s who we are, Brisco.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he said abruptly.

She raised an eyebrow. “You know I love you, but…” she shrugged. “You have bounties. And there’s no way I’ll ever stop singing on the road.”

“I’m not asking you to stop, Dix,” he said. He shrugged. “If we don’t think of a way out of this,” he said, “We can always get divorced in the next town over.”

She gave him an awkward smile. “That’s the strangest and the sweetest thing you’ve ever offered me. I guess that’s the best way out. I’ll be here six months out of the year from now on anyway if I win – and I will win – because I do feel responsible for them. They can’t even recognize Phil Swill in a dress!”

He gave her a hug. “I do love you…”

“Shh. I know,” she said. Then she patted his arm. “C’mon. We’ve got a wedding to set up.”

*** 

The ensuing hours were a whirl of appointments, lessons and fittings. Brisco barely had time to squeeze off a cable to Bowler requesting his presence, and when his best friend showed up on the evening train he was far more interested in teasing him about the events of the day than helping with the preparations. He took Brisco out for a quasi bachelor party, which involved the two of them sipping beers while playing endless rounds of poker. A few glasses later and Bowler was rousting him off to the temporary room he’d rented for them in the same inn he’d inhabited with Dixie the night before.

“What’s the big rush? You didn’t stick Comet in a cake, did you?” Brisco wondered. His booze-hazed mind recalled a very large cake being wheeled out of the town bakery during the rehearsal dinner, courtesy of the town founders, but he was too tired to much care.

“I need some shut-eye,” complained Bowler. “And you know how you get when you’re drunk.”

“No. How do I get?”

“Last time you dared a fella to sing the words in the Constitution in a headstand. You ruined the bartop and scuffed your good boots.”

“Heh, you’re a real good friend, Bowler.” He threw an arm around his friend’s shoulders, a gesture that caused him to notice a flickering light emanating from the inn’s basement. He grabbed Bowler’s shoulder, his mental fog clearing as they make a silent pact to sneak into the basement.

There, they found the three kids who had welcomed Brisco to town, gathered around a series of wire tubes, which connected to a tiny chunk of mineral. It suddenly sparked, filling the room with an eerie glow. “We did it!” cheered the middle boy, whose face fell as he caught sight of the two men hidden in the doorway. He alerted both of his siblings with a shake.

“Intruder!” Cried Mary-Lynne – who finally succeeded in hitting Brisco in the face with one of the rotten apples they’d apparently been using in the experiment. 

“For once and for all, cut that out!” Brisco yelped. 

“Whatt’re you kids up to?” Bowler growled, reaching for his gun.

The eldest boy frowned. “Might as well tell ‘em, James. The jig’s up.”

“We’re doing science,” said James. “We think we figured out a way to light up the whole town without worrying about lanterns! It has to do with this mineral, these vegetables and these wires from our pa’s store.” He held the copper wire tips together, and Brisco saw a white arc of light echo between the two endpoints, causing the mineral connected to the wires to glow. “We’re callin’ it uranium,” said James. “On a count of Gene here finding it in his outhouse.”

“The stuff’s everywhere here,” said Gene, the taller boy. “In stream beds and down in the canyons. If we dug all of it up, we could probably light up the whole world!”

“Very fancy,” Brisco said.

“That’s why we were keeping watch for the town when you came,” said James. “The Swills’d do about anything to get their hands on this stuff.”

“They’re probably seeing nothing but dollar signs.” Bowler raised an eyebrow. “What made you kids decide to do something like this, anyway?”

“Have you seen this town?” James asked. “Almost every grown up here is dumber’n a post. Our schoolteacher’s seventeen, and she’s the smartest folk we got. We don’t got much else to do while we wait to get older.”

“Half the time they don’t even recognize the Swills when they come back,” said Mary-Lynne. “They stole my grandma’s dress off the clothes line last time, and they fooled my dad.” 

“You gotta think up your own fun in Los Alamos,” confirmed Gene.

“Even if it gets pretty dangerous.” Mary-Lynne said. 

“Speaking of dangerous, Mister, we all think the Swills’re gonna try to stop your wedding,” James said.

“No offense, kid, but I had the same feeling,” said Brisco. 

“Do you have a plan?” Mary-Lynne wondered.

“Dixie’s going to seal off the town,” he said. “We think they’re hiding somewhere but unless we go through every building in town we won’t find ‘em in time. So the only thing we can do is watch and wait.”

“You’re awful smart for a grown-up,” observed Gene.

“Don’t go puffing up his ego,” retorted Bowler.

*** 

The following morning dawned clear and crisp, but the evening had its charms too. Brisco dressed nattily, shaved neatly, and showed up to the town hall bedecked with streamers, accompanied by Bowler in the suit he’d picked out. The minister raised an eyebrow but made no comment when he tethered his horse to the front of the hall.

“He’s the best man,” Bowler said, and the preacher took his word for it. The enormous cake stood as a backdrop for them all.

Then came the bridal marched, followed by a beautifully-dressed Dixie with an enormous bouquet of honeysuckles. She was stunning, and every fella in the place nearly swooned off their feet at the sight of her. But she only had eyes for Brisco, and he took her hand as they faced the minister for the homily. 

Soon enough they were exchanging rings. Brisco came out with the traditional vows with no hesitation, as did Dixie. As the priest joined their hands, he saw the cake behind her begin to quake. 

He and Bowler exchanged frantic glances, and he let go of Dix’s hands. “The Swills!” they cried together.

Just then, the gang emerged in a wave of frosting and strawberry filling to the fearful shouts rang from the crowd. Bowler and Brisco raced forward, ready to tackle the wayward gang. All had been ready to attack – but for the power suddenly cutting out. 

In the melee, the Swills were no match for Brisco and Bowler’s fisticuffs; nor were they invulnerable to Dixie, who flattened Will with a fist to the face. By the time the lights came back on they were brighter than ever – and stemmed from a potato held aloft by Mary-Lynne. 

*** 

It took another hour to straighten things out and transfer the Swills into state custody. Finally allowed a moment to himself, Brisco flopped onto a pew beside Dixie, who was daintily trying to dab the cake from her eyes with an antique handkerchief. 

“I’ll hand it to you, Brisco,” she said. “Life with you’s never dull.”

“I’m sorry, Dix,” he grumbled. “Fate’s just not on our side.”

“It’s not fate,” she replied lightly. “It’s a gang with a terrible sense of timing.” She leaned into his arms. “It was nice though, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he admitted softly. “You’re beautiful. Cake notwithstanding.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, pecking his cheek, and then resting her head on his shoulder. “You know – I suppose we’re half-married right now.”

“I suppose we are. Dix,” he said suddenly. 

“Hmm?”

“Marry me. Whole and all the way.” She looked up with a gasp. “If this mess taught me anything, it’s that I don’t want you out of my sight, even for a second.”

“But what about our careers?”

He grinned. “Bounties are everywhere, Dix. It’s about time I followed your star for a little while. Bowler’ll hold down the fort in Frisco, won’t you?”

Bowler had been busy nearby feeding Comet some of the leftover cake, and he raised his brow. “Sure, if you lemme up my take by ten percent.”

“Only fair. What do you say, Dix?”

“I don’t know, this is all so sudden.”

“Say yes!” Bowler called, and then turned away from them in embarrassment when they glanced at him.

“I won’t leave if you say no, Dix – but I’m hoping you’ll say yes anyway.”

She shook her head. “What is it about you?” she wondered again, squeezing him to her chest.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.”

They kissed for an exorbitantly long time, until they heard an indelicate cough from behind them.

“Miss Cousins,” said Charles Foster Kane, “I don’t mean to pry, but how will you serve the public and raise a family while continuing your singing career?”

“Oh! Hmm. I resign,” she said, staring into Brisco’s eyes.

“But Miss Cousins! Who will take care of the town now?”

She pulled away from Brisco and studied him. “You have a solid head on your shoulders, Kane. Why don’t you run?”

“Why, do you think I have the integrity? The nerve?”

“You broke into my room to get a scoop. A town like this needs that kind of nerve.”

“Hmm. I’ll consider it.” Said Foster.

Aside to Mary-Lynne, Brisco said, “keep an eye on the books, kids.”

“Come along, Rosebud,” he said to his photographer. “We have a campaign to run!”

As they left the hall, Dixie shook her head. “I hope I just did the right thing.”

“Anything’s better than leaving them with the Swills,” Brisco said. Then he scooped Dixie up and carried her toward the door. “May I?”

“Kiss the bride, Brisco,” she demanded. And when he did so, she pitched the bouquet over his shoulder. 

Comet caught it in his mouth with a brittle crunch.

**** 

Three weeks later, they had a peaceful ceremony at the Westerfield Club, attended by their friends, the sisters from Dixie’s foster organization; and Comet, of course, relegated to ring bearer this time. 

They went on to follow their own stars, bound to their integrity, their skills – and each other – for the rest of their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction uses characters from **The Adventures of Brisco County Jr.** , all of whom are the property of the ****. No money was gained from the writing of this fanfiction and all are used under the strictures of of the Berne Convention.


End file.
